The Things You Can’t Plan For

After driving 5 hours, we traded in our mountain views for alpine hills and coastal sunsets. We spent the next 2 days exploring Olympic National Park in Washington State.

After almost a year of planning, I thought I was prepared for the magnificence that is Olympic.

Hurricane Hill

On our first day, we started early, arriving at the Hurricane Hill trailhead at 8 a.m. The parking lots were already filling up, with some choosing to park 3 miles away and walk the road to the trailhead. Full of optimism, we decided to give it a quick look and were able to get the last spot in the second lot, only adding 0.25 miles to our 3.3-mile hike.

When I researched Hurricane Hill, it was marked as moderate on AllTrails with an elevation gain of 803 feet. I remembered the Manitou Incline in Colorado and thought, if I can conquer 2,000 feet of elevation gain in less than a mile, Hurricane Hill will be a piece of cake.

That was 9 months ago.

Now we stood at the bottom of the paved trailhead as families, hikers, and athletes worked their way up the winding trail. I looked at Chris, his face already exasperated by the daunting path before us. I pulled my lips inward with a determined smile, grabbed his hand, and moved forward.

The hike was challenging, but the wildflowers painted the steep hills on our left, and the sky was clear as whispers of clouds floated by. We stopped to take pictures of small pikas and chunky marmots working and scurrying past us.

As we took our first true break to catch our breath and eat a snack, I joked with Chris as he once again told me to steal a pika and put it in my bag to take home.

He does this with all wildlife.

It’s his favorite part of our adventures. He turned around in the Rocky Mountains when he saw a marmot on the brink of a scenic viewpoint. He gasped underwater when a stingray swam past in the Pacific waters of California, and I watched his eyes grow big and gleam with excitement when a young howler monkey ran down a tree in Costa Rica.

It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with him, his care and love for animals. One moment he can be frustrated at traffic or waking up early, but when we get in the midst of a hike, he’ll talk to the lizards or smile at foxes.

We sat there and laughed as I replayed these moments in my head before eventually getting back on our feet and continuing forward.

The paved trail transitioned to a dirt path after a small scenic viewpoint. I was already awestruck by the rolling hills before me, but it wasn’t until we reached the turn in the dirt path that I stepped forward to truly take in the beauty before me.

The vibrant green valleys and thick forest transitioned sharply into deep blues that rolled upon each other for miles. Low fog nestled in the crooks and crevices of the ridges, and I found myself wondering if anything before me was truly untouched by human hands.

For a moment, neither of us seemed in a hurry to move.

We soaked this view in for quite some time before making our way to a higher point. I offered to take a picture of two sweet women, and the favor was returned before we began our descent.

As I spoke to Chris about his new hiking poles, his hand grasped my arm, and I was yanked backward and behind him as he gasped, followed by a very slow, “Move.”

Seconds later, he said, “Oh, it’s just a buck.”

There, tucked beneath one of the only bushes, was a gentle buck observing the crowd.

I bent over in laughter as we joked about his reaction, and I thanked him for “saving my life” before snapping a photo of the handsome guy.

The descent felt a little easier as I used my poles to protect my knees. By the time we made it back to the car, my watch said 5.6 miles.

Well worth it, I thought, as we packed our bags and headed toward the next destination.

The rest of the day continued to be magical. We ate homemade food at Granny’s Café, hiked waterfalls, and swam in the clear turquoise waters of Lake Crescent before making our way to Forks, Washington.

By the time we finished dinner in Forks, the day should have been over. Instead, we headed toward Second Beach.

Second Beach

The temperature had already dropped from a warm 85 degrees to a cool 60 at the entrance of our trail. Initially planning to wear our hiking sandals, the cool breeze from the Pacific waters had us change our minds. So we strapped our sandals to our backpacks and began the journey.

The trail was slick with thick mud and dense forest. Each uneven step reminded me of the deep, ancient roots beneath our shoes. We passed slugs, some peppered in color while others were gray and green.

Chris stopped to say hello to each one.

He threatened to take one home to be friends with a slug in our garage that he confessed he had been feeding a piece of dog food to every morning.

As always, we left the wildlife where it was meant to be and continued forward.

The beach opened before us, and as we continued moving past the trees and brush, the air now mixed with ocean mist that brushed our cheeks and cooled our noses. Driftwood lay stacked before our exit, and we were thankful that we opted for our boots as we climbed and grappled over it.

As we explored the beach, Chris looked for shells and rocks, his bare feet moving in and out of the freezing water. My sensitive feet stayed cocooned in the dry sand as I took pictures with my camera and helped Chris with our rock mission.

Soon, I became colder than I expected and told Chris we could leave and skip the sunset if he wanted.

He negotiated that we eat our pies from Granny’s Café before we made any decision.

I chose a spot where I felt we’d have the best view, and he grabbed a log for us to use as an anchor for our blanket and a sitting area as well. Pulling the pies from our bag, we laughed as we realized we forgot any utensils. Soon, our fingers were covered in apple and blackberry as we talked about daily adventures, family, and why so many photographers were arriving at the beach.

After 20 minutes of eating and watching photographers set up significant equipment, we packed up our blanket, and I let out a small squeal.

“The sun is going to set directly behind the hole in the wall.”

At this point, it was 9 p.m., and the cold wind and mist no longer seemed to affect me as we continued to move back and back before finding the perfect spot among many others to watch a Washington sunset.

As I sat there, I watched couples hold hands and lean into each other. I saw solo hikers absorb the beauty, listened to families giggle, and what I assume were locals splayed out on their blankets, cozied up watching the sunset.

There was something comforting about being surrounded by people who had all decided the same thing: whatever the cold or late hour, this was worth staying for.

Gradually, the bright orange sky diminished behind the wall, and within moments, bright rays shot forward, creating a path along the rushing waves.

Then came the moment I assumed we were all waiting for.

The rays burst through the hole, shining with a magnitude that I’m sure scholars and philosophers have written about.

And if not, then why?

My chest seemed to open, and I felt every inch of my body being pulled toward the light. My eyes glistened with appreciation and absolute awe.

A whole-body effect of admiration had overwhelmed me, and I couldn’t put into words what was happening. I just knew it was something to remember.

I looked over at Chris, and for a moment, I didn’t want to take a picture or say anything. I just wanted to remember that I was there, with him, feeling this.

As the sun faded and the light began to dim, we decided to head back up the trail with the little light left.

That night, we laid in our tiny house cabin talking about the beauty we just experienced and how thankful I was that Chris had asked to wait.

As sleep pulled us in, I whispered, “That was my favorite part so far.”

Tide Pools and Coastal Wildlife

At 5:30 a.m., my alarm went off, and we sprung out of bed. I didn’t feel like I had slept, but didn’t have time to snooze. Pulling on our hiking clothes and packing our bags, we jumped in the car, brushing our teeth with water from our canteen and eating our breakfast smoothie pouches.

Low tide was at 2 a.m., but if we could be at the trail by 6 a.m., we should still be able to see some sea creatures.

It took us longer than expected, and at 7 a.m., we were at the end of our trail and on the beach.

My hopes were slowly being diminished as we walked the beach, with waves already covering most of the rocky surfaces. Yet we continued to a group of rocks near the end.

Out of my peripheral vision, I saw a black blob bobbing in the water.

I stopped and stared.

Chris was fixed on the ground looking for shells and continued forward a little before I saw it again and gasped.

Shouting at Chris, we both stopped and watched a sea otter floating on his back, munching on some unknown substance.

We watched him dive, breach, and float over waves for 10 minutes as he continued to eat his morning meal.

A family shortly joined the beach, and instead of shouting, I pointed.

A universal language to look.

Before we continued forward, I made sure they saw the little guy.

Once we reached the rocks, we saw multiple small tide pools, many full of sea anemones and starfish. We explored the tide pools for about 30 minutes before deciding to head back before the tide was too high.

The morning had already given us more than we expected: a sea otter, tide pools, and one last glimpse of the coast before we turned inland.

Ruby Beach and the Hoh Rain Forest

Our next stop was Ruby Beach and the Hoh Rain Forest.

At Ruby Beach, large sandstone formations scattered across the beach, while large and small islands dotted the ocean, ancient trees still standing against the raging water and steep cliffsides.

It was a perfect morning, and as we ate our breakfast before driving to the Hoh Rain Forest, we reminisced about our wildlife encounters and the frigid beauty of the coastal landscape.

Hoh was stunning, but the 2-hour wait had us running to porta-potties and sharing packs of toilet wipes with strangers. We joked with a man counting cars ahead of us and, on that same trail, laughed with him when we all finally made it.

We did multiple trails, but my favorite was Sol Duc Falls.

The three falls plunge into a fissure within the ground, dropping into the creek below. Around us, trees grew in odd places, over old bridges, atop signs, and the roots of one tree climbed over concrete blocks.

I stopped to take a picture before showing Chris and telling him about how it reflected life and leadership.

Overcoming barriers and obstacles to grow.

With nature, it seems effortless, but it shows the strength and resilience of life. As humans, we tend to make a choice to grow or stay the same. I think of this often in leadership, but more recently, I also think of it within my family and with my marriage to Chris.

We’ve been through many challenges, and yet we continue to want to grow and be better as individuals and as a couple.

I could have sat in this spot next to my tree of resilience, listening to the falls roar for hours, but we had a 6:30 p.m. reservation, and so I said my goodbyes to the beauty of the rainforest and we began our descent.

As we exited the trail, it began to sprinkle. Before long, the rain began to pour, and Chris pulled over.

We walked into the forest beneath the dense canopy where moss draped delicately over each branch. He set up his phone, hit record, and kissed his now-wife.

His spontaneous romance made me giddy as we jumped back in the car and shortly pulled into our last destination for Olympic National Park.

Sol Duc Hot Springs

After days of hiking, our sore muscles needed the healing mineral waters, and Sol Duc Hot Springs was a perfect way to end an incredible, beautiful adventure.

I spent nine months planning for Olympic, trying to prepare myself for what we would see.

But there are some things you just can’t plan for.

A sunset that makes you forget you’re cold.

A sea otter appearing when you thought the tide had already won.

A buck hiding beneath a bush while Chris dramatically saves my life.

The way his entire face changes when he sees an animal.

The way a tree finds a way to grow around whatever stands in its path.

Maybe those are the things I’ll remember most.

Not just the places we went, but the little moments in between.

The moments that made me stop, laugh, feel, and look at the person beside me with a little more gratitude.

Olympic was everything I had hoped it would be.

And somehow, so much more.

Recommendations

📍Airbnb in Sequim, WA
🥾Hurricane Hill Trail – arrive before 8am. Parking lot fills up fast
🥧 Granny’s Cafe
🥾Marymere Falls
📍Lake Crescent
Dinner in Forks, WA
🥾🌊 Second Beach – sunset
Airbnb – La Push, WA
🐙Tide pools – Beach 4 (Rialto closed due to construction) Check tide charts for low tide. This time of year negative tide was 2am. we did low tide and still found a few pools.
🥾Ruby Beach
HOH Rainforest – If between 8am and 2pm there will be a wait. We waited 2 hours while others waited around 4.
🥾Hall of Mosses
🥾Spruce Nature Trail
🥾Sol Duc Falls Trail ⭐️
Sol Duc Hot Springs – Can make reservations online

Season – Summer — July

Temperatures – high 80s and low 50’s (drastically different near coastal waters)

Recommend waterproof jackets, boots, and layers